


Combat Damage

by nan



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Battle Injuries, M/M, Post-Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nan/pseuds/nan
Summary: Zell doesn't take care of his weapons so Squall does.
Relationships: Zell Dincht/Squall Leonhart
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20
Collections: Minigame: Round 1





	Combat Damage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vinndetta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinndetta/gifts).



Flicking the bathroom light on, Zell carefully shrugs off his jacket, wincing as that highlights the ache of his shoulders. It hadn’t been a particularly hard mission and because of that he’d waved off any healing potions. At the time it’d seemed like a good idea but now he wasn’t so sure. 

He pulls one glove off and then the other; the bindings around his knuckles are stained with blood and he sighs, flexing his fingers and frowning when the stains grow larger. 

“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I’m good.” 

“Doesn’t look that way from here.” 

Zell startles and immediately falls into a fight stance, only to meet Squall’s unimpressed stare as he’s pushed back down to a seated position.

“Squall-” 

“Shut up.” 

“But I-” Squall casts a glare towards him and Zell quiets. He glares back and suspects it doesn’t have quite the effect he’s going for when Squall raises an eyebrow, lips quirking up into a barely perceptible smile. It fades when he looks down at Zell’s hands. 

“Why didn’t you use a potion?” he asks, frowning. 

Zell shrugs, looking away. “I didn’t need one.” 

“Bullshit.” Squall holds out one hand and Zell stares at it.

“Uh, what?” 

Squall sighs and reaches out,taking hold of one of Zell’s hands. He starts unwrapping the binding, fingers slow and light, frown becoming heavier and heavier until the bandages are finally free and hit the floor with a thick, wet sound. A veritable thunderstorm sits on Squall’s brow but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he goes to the medicine cabinet and pulls out some supplies. 

“I can do it-” 

“Hands.” 

Zell starts to argue but Squall’s expression bodes no mercy, so he sighs and holds his hands out. 

Despite his quiet anger, Squall is careful and the cleanup is a slow, methodical process. First cleaning one hand, dabbing the knuckles with alcohol, then rewrapping it with gauze; then the other. There’s silence between them but it’s tense and Zell can feel his face heat up until finally he can’t help but speak.

“Look, this isn’t a big deal, okay? It’s not like something else managed to get me, I...you know, I hit things! That’s kinda my thing! My body is my weapon, of course it’s gonna get a little dinged up.” 

Squall stares at him before shaking his head. “Then you need to take better care of your weapon,” he says. “If my gunblade gets dull, I sharpen it. If your fists get injured, you take care of them.” His eyes narrow. “Using one potion isn’t going to hurt anything. _Not_ tending to yourself could put all of us in danger.” 

“I….but…” Zell hangs his head. “Okay, you win,” he says.

Squall snorts. “I know.” He gets up and heads for the door. Just before he leaves, he throws out, “Also, you’re taking a week off from missions. That's an order.” 

“What?!” Zell squawks, jumping to his feet to argue but it's futile. Squall is already gone.


End file.
